


Love Replaces Fear

by Doctor_Benzedrine



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Earth Defense Command, M/M, Paternal Bonds, Post Requiem of the Wreckers, Secret Santa 2019, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Unrequited Love, alternate universe — no character death, healing through love, nirvon’s funky robot server, no one reads these tags so I’m going to shitpost here, teen angst springer, the wreckers - Freeform, themes of depression, verity carlo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22725094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Benzedrine/pseuds/Doctor_Benzedrine
Summary: Prowl and Tarantulas have always had intertwined fates. When Prowl receives a letter from Tarantulas, years after their encounter in the Noizemaise, he decides to pay him a visit.
Relationships: Prowl/Tarantulas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	Love Replaces Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This is a VERY late Secret Santa piece but I thought today would be the perfect day to post it considering it’s Valentines Day!
> 
> Merry Christmas (?) Neptune!
> 
> You can listen to the playlist I’ve created for this fic while you read here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9vbD3zk1rvnkwM2YEFOw16YdHklsv-ak&feature=share

“Epistolary,” the pragmatist uttered aloud, grasping a hold of a hefty envelope, shaking its contents gently. 

“That’s what my life is beginning to feel like. An epistolary novel.” 

The epistolary novel... a dying art form. A novel told through letters or other forms of correspondence. Perhaps he was spending too much time with the humans he claimed to be protecting if he was beginning to take an interest in their literature, but that was besides the point. At this point in his life, Prowl was used to getting random correspondence. More often than not, it was hate mail from human beings who seemed to believe he single-handedly caused the war or Unicron’s arrival. A slew of problems. All his fault. Certainly Spike Witwicky’s doing. 

For whatever reason, a pile of letters sat unopened on his desk. The EDC were kind enough to offer him a position, even after his supposed career full of war crimes. Up until this point, Prowl chose to ignore the hand-written correspondence. Yet, something moved him to open this one. The letters began to clutter his desk. At the very least, Prowl could trace a human addressee and confront them himself, personally apologizing for his wrong-doing and asking, politely, that they stop annoying him with the slew of letters. 

With an exasperated sigh, Prowl propped his legs upwards, getting comfortable, which was a practical fallacy for him. With the units protruding from his servos, he tore the thick letter open. As he opened it, several photos flooded out... and then... a letter. The pragmatist soon sat upwards, correcting his posture as he eyed the photographs that sat before him. Gently, he picked one up, squinting at it. 

It was him. From a millennia before. For once, the pragmatist was speechless, lost in thought. Beside him stood his former colleague — Mesothulas, now known as Tarantulas, but Tarantulas was dead now... wasn’t he? No. The letter. The letters. They came from him — Tarantulas. 

With shaking servos, the Cybertronian picked the letter up and placed the photograph aside.

“Prowl,” the pragmatist read aloud.

“If you are reading this, you’ve finally decided to read something of mine. I thought my letters would clutter your desk enough to the point that I piqued your curiosity. More to the point, no, I’m not dead, and much to my surprise, neither are you. My dear Prowl, I can compose pretty prose at your expense any day, but for the sake of being concise and keeping your attention — as I know that’s a task in itself — I miss you, terribly. The human our Ostaros was all too fond of said it simply enough. I can’t doubt our compatibility. I can’t doubt that what we had was true, and I know that somewhere, in that helm of yours, that rugged spark, you feel the way I feel. I don’t want to live any longer without you in my sight. 

You’re more than a partner to me. You always were. Neither of us like to be vulnerable, but I’m asking you to be. I’m asking you to give it a chance: to give us a chance once again. I’ve picked up on human verbiage — I believe the phrase is “no strings attached?” I won’t go to the desperate measures I once did, but at the very least, I’d like to see you once again.

Both of us deserve closure. 

Tarantulas, or your Mesothulas”

Prowl couldn’t believe his optic. This had to have been some sort of a ploy. Then he spotted the indentation at the bottom of the page. 

“No. This isn’t a ploy. Ignore your trust issues. You can even bring someone along. I just wish to see you. You will find my coordinates traced on the back of the photographs. I have the utmost faith in your cryptography skills and didn’t want my location to be compromised.”

So it was legitimate? Prowl would bring along an acquaintance to be certain. As miffed as he would be, Prowl was still Springer’s superior. 

Wreck and rule, Prowl thought in a sing-song fashion, his face-plate contorting into a grin. At least he still had a sense of humor. Without much effort, he began to decode the coordinates on the back of the photographs. In order to do so, Prowl was forced to relive old memories, organizing the photographs by fleeting moments in his life — in his time with Tarantulas. The pragmatist wasn’t the nostalgic type, far too busy to dwell on the past, but for some reason, he found himself thinking fondly of the memories. Prowl would give his fellow scientist this closure he desired, in turn, getting closure himself. Perhaps he needed it just as much.

———————————————————————————

“You want me to do what?” The former Wrecker began, rubbing the sides of his helm where his temples would have been. “No. Repeat it for me one more time. I want you to see if you sound as ridiculous as I think you sound.” 

“Springer.” Prowl stated, his tone of voice pleading. “You were the one who connected us. If anything, this will give you closure as well.” 

“Implying I asked to have a mysterious past and be an experiment in artificial spark placement.” Springer groaned in response. “This is why I went back and fixed things. If Verity taught me one thing it’s that you can’t run from your past. You have to accept it and move on. Some things are set in stone, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep egging it on. You live with it, learn to cope with it, and you move on. You need to move on Prowl. I have.”

“Have you?” asked the pragmatist, raising an optic brow as he crossed his arms. “Springer.” Prowl glanced up at the much taller bot, a pleading look in his good optic. “Please. You never have to speak to me again after this. Think of it as a favor. Verity would have-“

“No. You don’t get to pull that with me when you allowed me to endanger her like I did.”

“Actually she did that to herself,” Prowl corrected. “Magnus was going to send her h-“ 

“See. You’re doing it. You’re blaming someone else for something you were responsible for.”

“I guess this conversation is pointless,” Prowl said with a sigh, glancing down at his pedes. “...and I suppose do owe you an apology. I hoped that this would give me the opportunity to apologize, but I should let you know that I’m sorry.”

Springer laughed in response. “Same old Prowl. Apology accepted.”

“What really?” 

There was an awkward beat of silence and Springer spoke up again. 

“Like I said. You move on.” He smiled down at Prowl and held out a hand, winking at the pragmatist.

“What do I-“

“You’ve lived on Earth for 14 years and you don’t know what a handshake is?” 

“I just-“

“Yes, you shake it.” 

Prowl felt a twinge of a smile cross his his face as he shook Springer’s servo. There was another awkward beat as Springer untangled his units from Prowl’s and pulled away, waiting for Prowl’s response. 

“And now?”

“To hell with it.” Springer sighed and transformed into his air-based form. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” 

———————————————————————————

Tarantulas fumbled with the tufts at the end of his legs, his newfound tarsi. The Cybertronian had quite literally been in the dark for months now, living out of a moist cave. Tarantulas’ only companionship were his thoughts and the raindrops hitting his helm. Loneliness plagued him. It always did. Nothing was new. 

Tarantulas heard nothing from Prowl and had recently sent what he dictated as being his last correspondence. Succumbing to what was common and fashioning a holoform took far too much out of him. If Prowl wanted to come he would. If he didn’t. Tarantulas would be alone. The techno-organic Cybertronian would spend the rest of his days like this, allowing the rest of the world to pass by while he sat idle. Earth. Cybertron. The rest of the universe. For a scientist, Tarantulas was beginning to lose interest in what would once fascinate him so. 

In the darkness, he curled up in a corner and hugged himself. Where was he? Did Tarantulas even know? He had to have been close to some penchant of human society, as he ventured to a nearby post office, mailing letters to the Earth Defense Command, to the care of Prowl. Other than that, the scientist had no clue. What were the coordinates he sent his former partner? Minutes passed. Hours. Days turned to weeks. Weeks into months. Had it been a year? Is this what depression felt like? It was a very *human* emotion, but he knew it well. Curse his sentience and curse this doubt that crept into his hole — that is, his cave — and his head.

Then, a speck of hope. A shuffling of leaves outside of his cave. 

Could it be his Prowl? 

Tarantulas crawled over to the opening, seeing the sunlight for the first time in a long time. 

No. It was a pair of forest-faring Earth creatures. Squirrels.

Discouraged, he returned to his spot. That was it. Or was it? 

———————————————————————————

“This it?” Springer asked, scratching the cabling after the back of his neck. “It doesn’t look like much. I’ve seen two of Tarantulas’ hideouts. This doesn’t look like either of them. It doesn’t look like much of anything.” 

“These are the coordinates?” Prowl questioned. “I don’t make mistakes.”

“Really?” Springer laughed again in response. “You don’t make mistakes?”

“Normally. I don’t make mistakes normally.”

“Right,” the former Wrecker responded. “Say, this is just an idea, but why don’t you comm him?”

“Comm him? I’m not even sure if I still have his communication signature in my database. He may have changed it.”

“Or you’re afraid. Go ahead and admit it.” 

“I’m not afraid!” The pragmatist exclaimed, seemingly defensive. 

“It’s okay,” Springer responded placing a firm servo on Prowl’s shoulder. “You haven’t seen him in a few years. I’d be afraid too.”

“Fine,” Prowl relented. “I’ll try.” Nervously, Prowl closed his optic and searched the confines of his mind for the scientist’s comm signature. On a whim, he tried to reach Tarantulas. Much to Prowl’s surprise, he got a response. 

“Prowl?” The scientist declared, surprised, voice beaming. His former partner was reaching out to him. Finally, an answer to his constant loneliness. “It’s you.” Tarantulas’ voice sounded desperate, but he also felt desperate. His spark pulsed, much like a human’s heart-rate would pick up. Was he nervous? It had been so long since he felt something other than loneliness or depression. “You... got my letter.” The scientist’s words were interrupted, coming out in spurts with his own vents. “Thank you. Thank you for opening it. For reaching out.” 

“No. Thank you,” Prowl responded.

Springer couldn’t help but laugh at what he saw transpiring before him. The pair seemed much like an old married couple. 

“Are you - you’re - you’re outside.” Tarantulas optics widened in shock. He was no longer alone. Prowl’s signal and the signal of another, familiar to Tarantulas were nearby. 

“This is where you’ve been staying? Tarantulas.” There was an ounce of concern in Prowl’s voice, unheard of by the pragmatist. “Come outside. We’ll...talk out here.”

Talk? Prowl wanted to talk? Tarantulas’ formally weak spark surged as he ventured out of his cave and onto the forest’s floor. Leaves crunched underfoot as the techno-organic gripped a tree-trunk for support. That was him. And someone else? That was his Ostaros as well. Oh. Springer. That was his Springer, who had watched him die and spent Tarantulas “last” moments with him. Springer was who Prowl chose to bring along? 

Something formed at the base of Tarantulas’ optics. It was a tiny speak of transfluid. A tear. He reached up and wiped it away. Tarantulas felt an influx of emotions. All coming over him at once. If this was the last time he saw them, it would be worth it.

Truthfully, Prowl felt the same way. He didn’t express his emotions openly, as was what he was used to, but he certainly felt a slew of things. Anxiety and fear for the most part. A small touch of resentment. Something else. Prowl felt... endeared of the creature who stood before him, and he respected him.

“We’re not going to talk?” Springer asked, interrupting the silence. “Why did you bring me along then?” 

Oh. Right. Both Prowl and Tarantulas were here to settle an aforementioned score. 

“Springer,” Tarantulas started, placing a gentle tarsus upon his face-plate. The former Wrecker smiled in response and gripped the tarsus gently.

“Glad you aren’t dead. Thanks for making something useful. I fixed a lot of things for a lot people who deserved it and got rid of Overlord for good.” 

“Thank you for coming.” Tarantulas responded softly. “Out of everyone Prowl could have brought along -“ Tarantulas paused. “I’m sorry for all of the pain I caused you.”

“You’ve apologized for that before,” came Springer’s response, gleefully. There was a somber tone among the group. Springer wanted to correct that before it got any worse. “I’m going to tell you what I told Prowl before he dragged me here with him. Apology accepted and it’s time to move on.” 

“To move on?”

“Isn’t that the point of this?” Springer questioned, looking between the pair in front of him. “You two need to work this out and move on. Whatever happened in the past: it’s in the past. Let go of that fear and resentment and let something else replace it. I had a friend who taught me these things. Free advice courtesy of her.” 

“The bloodbag?”

“Her name’s Verity.” Springer started simply. “I’m - going to leave you two alone. If you need me, comm me.” With that, the former Wrecker walked off, sitting far enough away that the pair could have a private conversation. 

“So.”

“It’s really you.” Tarantulas closed his optics in response, out of shock more than anything else. “I - I wanted to ask for your forgiveness.” 

“For what?” Prowl questioned, brash, and absentmindedly. 

“I was never honest with you.”

“You’re apologizing for lying? Really? To me?” He laughed in response and quirked an optic brow, oddly suspicious. 

“My feelings for you were always more than just that of a fond partner to do experiments with. They were more. I-“ 

“You don’t have to say it,” The pragmatist stated, “I understand.”

“You obviously don’t if that’s your response!” Tarantulas calmed himself. This couldn’t be a fight. “I’m sorry - I -“

“I wasn’t sure if I felt the same.” Prowl responded, practically at a loss. “We’ve hurt each other. That’s been our method of communication for as long as I can remember. When I went missing, you had good reason to be bitter. I left you behind. Your response was to hurt me, because I... hurt you.” 

“That was hard for you to say, wasn’t it?” Tarantulas asked as Prowl nodded, letting out a sigh as he closed his optic in response. “It was hard for me to reach out, but I decided I couldn’t be afraid anymore. For Ostaros - Springer, and more importantly, for you.” 

“You weren’t the only one who was afraid, Tarantulas.” Prowl sighed again. “Let’s - start over.”

“You’re willing to?”

“I am. I don’t begin to understand anything about love, but there has to be more to it than what I’ve experienced.”

“You love-“

“I think so.” Prowl concluded Tarantulas’ sentence for him, grabbing the fuzzy tarsus and running units over it. “Nor do I begin to understand anything about affection or how a relationship works. Every one I’ve been in has failed, but I want to....”

“I’d like that.” The scientist finished Prowl’s sentence for him this time, feeling overjoyed. “I -“

“Love you.” 

The pair gripped servos, intertwining units. It wasn’t the most conventional relationship, but it was a start. Prowl was calculating and Tarantulas — manic, unsure of what he felt at most times. However, the two were passionate. Their passion joined them together once more. Both Prowl and Tarantulas were ready to start again, re-learning what it meant to love, what a relationship was. Like that, almost instantaneously, love replaced fear.


End file.
